


The Art of Being Useful

by tfm



Series: Post-Ep Fics [9]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Minor Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfm/pseuds/tfm
Summary: Beau reflects on her relationship with usefulness.Mid-episode 119.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Series: Post-Ep Fics [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870387
Comments: 2
Kudos: 137





	The Art of Being Useful

Beauregard had always been told that the most important thing that she could be was useful.

Not kind, or funny, or passionate; none of those things helped sell wine, after all. Intelligent wasn't necessarily frowned upon, except for when Beau used it for things that were deemed to be unimportant.

Reading about mermaids was not useful. Learning how to use a sword was not useful. Learning about growing seasons, about the flavor profile of different wines, about blight and botany, that was all useful.

Her father had kept her around until she wasn’t useful anymore. Until she decided that she didn’t particularly want to live under his stifling hold anymore, and started to act out.

The Cobalt Soul hadn’t been a great deal better. They were a little more subtle about it, of course. Teaching her how to punch lightning fast, and to shelve books like nobody’s business. All in some way to further their mission of finding knowledge, and stamping out corruption. It wasn’t until Dairon had come along that Beau had been given the opportunity to do things in her own way.

Regardless of the resent that she may or may not have felt, Beau still hated not being useful. Hated being put in a position where the myriad of skills that she had at her disposal were fruitless in the face of powerful, dangerous, deadly creatures.

It had been happening more and more of late. Fists and sticks were apparently not going to cut it compared to powerful magic. Who knew.

Beau had gone in with a plan. Rush the creepy baby, pop pop, stun, pop pop again. Basically a lot of whaling on the thing and generally being awesome. Only it hadn’t exactly gone that way. The second she’d seen the ball of light in front her, she had been transfixed. Distracted enough that the creature had managed to vomit acid on her, grab her and swallow her before she’d even figured out what the fuck was going on.

A little embarrassing to say the least.

Though the creature was now dead, and Caduceus had done an admirable job of healing, Beau was sure she could still feel the acid eating away at her skin. Large swathes of it were covered in burn scars that looked months old, rather than minutes. She was lucky that it hadn’t eaten through her clothes, as well as her skin. Though at least that could have led to something a little funny.

So, on the whole, Beau hadn’t been very useful. Sure, she’d gotten some punches in, but nothing compared to the insanity of what Jester and Fjord had managed in a few mere seconds, at least according to Veth.

Beau hadn’t exactly been able to see any of that.

‘Just to make you feel better, I did literally nothing the entire time,’ Caleb was saying. ‘I think I saw you smacking it in the face, so...’

‘That does make me feel better.’ It did, a little. But it didn’t change the fact that Caleb was probably the most useful – most powerful – out of all of them. Being able to put up the dome or the tower, being able to Teleport them across the continent at a moment’s notice...Beau could maybe stun something for about six seconds if she was lucky, but then apparently giant, many-armed babies were immune to that.

Not immune to suude, though, but even that hadn’t done nearly as much as Beau would have liked. She would have to find more of the stuff if she was going to use it to give Trent Ikithon a nice, long nap.

‘How are you feeling?’ The words jerked Beau from her contemplation of her own value. Without realizing it, she’d sort of been rubbing her hand across the newly mottled skin of her arm. Acid was new. Beau had a lot of different scars from a lot of different things, but she didn’t think she had any acid ones. Yasha, large chunk of spine in hand, was standing opposite Beau.

‘Eh.’ Beau shrugged. ‘Cad got some good healing in, and the longer we’ve been sitting here, the better I feel, so you know...’ Physically, at least. ‘Thanks for pulling me out of there. Pretty sure if I’d been in there any longer, it wouldn’t have ended well.’

Yasha waved a hand, like it was nothing, but from the look in her eyes, it was very clearly more than nothing. Beau felt even more useless, for not even being able to give Yasha a response to a letter, or even an indication that she was thinking about an a response. For all Yasha knew, Beau had either not read the letter at all, or had read it and didn’t care. ‘That thing with the drugs was pretty cool,’ Yasha said, and she really did sound impressed. ‘It put us in a good position to finish it off.’

Weirdly, the comment made Beau feel a little better. Though whether it was the words themselves, or the fact that they had come from Yasha, unprompted, Beau wasn’t sure. Probably a little of both. Yasha, who had said that Beau was  strong, and smart, and funny, and honest. Words that had nothing to do with how useful she was.

Without even knowing she was doing it, Yasha made Beau feel a little better.

‘So what are you going to do with that?’ Beau gestured towards the foot-and-a-half of spine that Yasha had managed to take from the creatures corpse. ‘Another harp?’

Yasha looked thoughtful. ‘I haven’t decided yet. Maybe a different instrument.’  She readjusted the strap across her chest that held her harp. A harp that existed only in its capacity to make beautiful music. A harp that only existed to make the world a little bit of a better place.

Yasha helped Beau to her feet. She didn’t need to, but the mere fact that she offered was enough. ‘Hey Yasha,’ Beau said. She lifted her arm, and showed Yasha the mottled skin. ‘Look at my cool new scars.’

Yasha smiled. It was an uncertain sort of smile. The sort of smile that was really saying “I’m glad I didn’t lose you.” What she actually said, though, was enough to make Beau’s heart sing for the rest of the day at least:

‘They’re beautiful.’


End file.
